Turncoat Prince
by deltast8
Summary: What if Severus Snape made a few different choices? A Snape-centric AU in which he manages his fullest potential, and stands against the world in his own way. Warning: characters age-adjusted. Snape/?
1. Prologue

Summary: What if Severus Snape made a few different choices? A Snape-centric AU in which he manages his fullest potential, and stands against the world in his own way. Warning: characters age-adjusted. Snape/?

 **Prologue**

 _January 9, 1960_

The pounding of rain against the rooftop was the only sound audible in the room other than the gasps of a laboring woman. Grimacing as his wife's grip on his hand neared bone-crushing force, the sole male occupant of the room waited with bated breath for the announcement. His son – _for it would be a son, stubborn as his father even before leaving the womb_ – was sparing the midwife no quarter in his attempt to maintain his current state of living.

Tobias sighed wistfully, considering, for a moment, the blissful ignorance of a newborn child. Ignorance lead to curiosity, a mechanism meant to dispel ignorance, which would inevitably lead to pain; children somehow found their way to the least innocuous of items. In some, this pain would even lead them back to ignorance. Tobias wished that he didn't on occasion personify his own thoughtful musings.

A wail started – ' _severed, even_ ' – the new father – ' _for I am a father now'_ \- from his idle thoughts. A boy it was, and with such a stern young face, even in the midst of wailing for precious air. Tobias gingerly cradled his newly released hand, but did not take his eyes off of his wife and child. Even after labour, Eileen sat upright against the pillows at her back, a soft smile playing across her tired face as she regarded the child in her arms.

She looked at him, and had never looked as lovely. "We need a name for him," she half-whispered, as the door closed behind the forgotten midwife.

Tobias grunted, coming closer to look upon his newborn son. Such a serious visage…

"I had hoped to call him Septimus," Eileen continued, "in memory of my great-uncle, a well-celebrated politician himself named for the Emperor of old."

The baby wailed, and Tobias made a face. "Septimus sounds too stodgy for my liking, what with you magic folk and your numerical obsession with the number seven. A right jinx if you ask me."

"Well, what would you suggest then?"

Tobias contemplated this question. "I will admit I like the emperor angle quite a bit. If you wanted to name him for Septimus Severus, then why not Severus?" He refused to admit that his thought of severance from his thoughts had played any role in his suggestion.

"Hmm…" Eileen was thinking this over carefully. The child in her arms quieted, and was watching her curiously. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again, thoughtful the whole while. "Well, it wouldn't b after my uncle then, but my son doesn't feel much a politician anyway."

Tobias snorted, and the child looked at him. "Good riddance. Damned snooty idiots keep making my job all the more precarious." And it was true. Tobias, despite his not-inconsiderable intellect, had been forced into labour at a young age in order to help support his own family. Unskilled labour had been the only option, and the nearby textile mill had made his choice simple. And the labour force at the mill was shrinking all the time due to the technologic innovations saving any need for the rich owners to pay salaries. It was all he could do to stay in good favour.

Eileen grimaced. While she knew she could contribute in small ways, Tobias was not the sort who wanted his wife making active contribution to the family livelihood. Backdated, but there it was. While he was tolerant of it because of her, she was also quite aware of his disposition towards magic. "I know, dear," she murmured, "but I do like the thought of our son as a conqueror."

Tobias smirked. "Severus it is then. Both in name and in manner it seems, the young blighter has stopped his wailing already." Severus, as he was to be called, watched him carefully, almost impassively.

Eileen tested the name. "Severus," she whispered. "Yes, it will do nicely." The parents looked to one another and locked eyes, sharing a secretive smile as their son settled to sleep. Unfortunately, the peace that the Snape family enjoyed at present would not last even the course of the coming year.


	2. Chapter 1

I know the prologue was both short and a bit messy, hoping this is a little better. Bear with me.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not my property. I would be a bit more on the wealthy side if it was.

 **Chapter 1**

 _September 18, 1960_

Nine months had passed since the birth of the young Severus Snape. His parents had reveled in the growth of their youngster, barely daring to breathe as he took his first steps just days earlier.

Severus was showing himself to be an exceptional child. His walking was early, yes, but what was truly unprecedented was his mind. He was a quiet child, only calling out when he was in need. With his newfound ability to move himself around, this was happening with less and less frequency. But no matter the frequency of his usage of his vocabulary, it was expansive nonetheless. As a nine-month-old, he knew no less than twenty words, which he was able to use with correct context. Three of these words displeased his mother immensely, as he had picked them up from his father after less-than-savory days of work.

Looking up at the clear midday sky, Eileen pondered at Severus' signs o magic at an early age as well. She had yet to see him perform accidental magic, but had evidence of his usage of magic regardless. And, indeed, perhaps magic of a less accidental sort. Tobias claimed that she must have forgotten giving him his toys, but she was sure that the puzzle pieces she had taken from him for fear of his oral curiousity had not been with him in his crib before she had turned in for the night. And she halfway thought that some of the toys that he was seen with nowadays were not even present in the house previously. _'But that would be ridiculous.'_ She shook her head of these thoughts; conjuration or transfiguration would be impossible for a child at this stage, intent or not.

Still more important, perhaps, than her son's blooming magical ability was her husband's acceptance of the matter. She knew that he accepted her magical nature from the night they had first kissed. She had never tried to keep her abilities from him, and he had at first been astounded. His astonishment slowly turned to confusion as their relationship progressed, which was understandable. But recently, he had shown naught but disgust at her abilities. It hurt, but she knew that he hoped dearly that his son would not manifest any of the abilities that she exhibited as a witch. This hypothesis was supported by his fervent denial of her claims of their son's showing of magical ability. "Just your delirium with the extra work of child-rearing," she murmured disbelievingly; those were the very words he had spoken last night after Severus had walked to their room. Walked to their room, mind you, _after_ she had closed his cot for the night.

Sighing, Eileen reached for a book off of her shelves. She was having less time for brewing these days, and so her end of their income had, to put it metaphorically, fallen off of a cliff. And for all of Tobias' brightness and eagerness, he could not seem to secure a higher position at the mill. As such, the Snape family had been reduced to a lower working-class family, struggling to make ends meet in Spinner's End. Other families in Cokeworth, especially in their destitute neighborhood on the wrong side of the river, were similarly struggling. It was not long since the war had been won, and England has never quite recovered economically. Couple that with the technological advances made every day, and it was a brutal time indeed for the working class.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a softly-spoken word.

"Mumma," Severus mewled, looking up at her with huge, dark eyes from his sitting position on the ground. His legs were splayed in front of him, and the black toy automobile she knew he had been playing with looked now – _I knew it_ – like a cross between a tree and a man. He held it in one hand, grinning as he offered it to her.

She vowed she would show Tobias the toy later, for indeed she had never even heard of a toy such as this. He would not be pleased, as the automobile was one of the few store-bought toys that Severus owned. Most wrought wrought from wood or were remnants of old work that she or her husband had done.

Softly, she bid her child come to her, and (without considering much of what she was doing, really) began reading to him from her potions text. The hours passed, and the sky clouded as the afternoon passed.

Both mother and child were disrupted from their thoughts as the front door banged open. Tobias stood there, looking downtrodden and dirty. Eileen immediately knew that it had not been a good day for him, and left her book with Severus as she went to greet her husband.

"More firin's today," he muttered, glaring at nothing in particular. "Evan is out a job now, too."

Eileen nodded, not caring much for the foul-mouthed man who she was sure had given her son at least one of the less savoury words that he knew. "But you are still there?" She dared to ask.

He nodded, eyes unfocussed. "Yes. But I don't know for how much longer." He sighed deeply, before adding, "The union is thinking of striking soon. That will do no good, I know it."

Eileen agreed. "How are we to live if thee is a strike? We are barely making do as it is!"

Tobias shook his head, scowling. "Those thrice-damned higher-ups know nothing but their own wages, and can tolerate a period without work. They care nothing for the common folk." He turned his head and noticed his son gazing at him curiously, a book sitting in his lap.

"You teaching the boy to read already, Eileen?" His smile turned upwards in a rare smile. "Ain't nobody gonna take advantage of my educated boy like they did his old dad."

Eileen smirked in amusement. "No dear, it is too early for even the brightest of boys to read. I was reading to him."

"Oh. Just as well then, perhaps he'll know more words'n he already does." Tobas strode over to his son and pat him twice on the head. The child smiled with pleasure, and took his hands off of the book on his lap. Tobias picked it up and his countenance soured.

He turned on his wife. "Why'd you have to make it a book about _magic_ that you're reading to him?" He scowled. "Read him summut that'll benefit us in the real world. Like Dickens, or even Shakespeare, or even numbers."

Eileen grimaced. "I was planning to brew today to make some more money for us to get by," she explained hurriedly. "I just started reading to him, and the time just _passed,_ you know?"

"Well, I don't mind you not making the potions as of yet. What is a man if he can't provide for his family these days anyway?"

"We both know that providing is not the same as comfort. If we add our incomes, perhaps we can be comfortable and offer our son a good education, like you have always said. Man and wife have earned together in the magical world for centuries, and I suspect that this world will continue its change as well."

Tobias nodded absently. "Yeah I know, and the extra money'll not hurt anyone. It's just… sometimes I feel so _useless._ I know that women are working now, but my father taught me that if I can't provide, then I should not even get involved."

Eileen patted her husband's shoulder. "It was not just your choice to wed, Tobias, and I do not regret my decision. We will make do."

"Yes, but I still don't like this _spellcraft._ "The word sounded bitter rolling off of his tongue. "We don't even know that our son'll be a witch either."

"Wizard, Tobais, a male magic-user is a wizard. And I am quite sure he is a wizard, look at this." She fetched the toy Severus had held earlier and handed it to her husband.

"What _is_ this?" he asked, half fascinated and half horrified. He had never seen anything like it.

"I believe," started the former Prince carefully, "that it _was_ the car that you bought Severus three days ago."

Tobias was silent, turning it over in his hands. He looked to want to deny it, but something caught his attention. His face dropped as he stroked the remainder of a headlight embedded in the tree-man's face, forming a mockery of an eye. It had at first been hidden by leaves, but it was clear as day now. He growled, clenching the thing tightly in his fist.

"I bought that toy with my hard earned money," he started. "I didn't buy it for my _magical boy_ to turn it into a freakshow toy."

Exhaling softly, Eileen took the toy from her husband. He whirled to face her n response, his face stormy. She put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, shaking her head. "This kind of thing will happen, but magic is not irreversible. Severus is a smart boy, all we have to do is make him want a car again."

Tobias still looked sullen, but nodded. Stooping to pick up his wide-eyed son, he threw another glare at the offending toy before grabbing it and standing. He gave the toy to Severus. "Come now boy, let's go look at some cars."

The man walked with his son down Spinner's End and over the bridge to the good part of town. He was headed for his boss' home, where he knew a sparkly new Mini would be parked. The whole while, Severus alternated looking at his father's face and at his surroundings curiously.

After fifteen or so minutes of walking, the two had reached the rich side of town. Before even reaching his boss' abode, a blue car that Tobias vaguely recognized as an Aston Martin raced past. The man stared after the luxury vehicle, watching as it smoothly turned the next left at the end of the street. He looked to his son, and saw an awed stare only a baby would be capable of. His son was also playing with the small, blue Aston Martin – _blimey_ – model in his small hands. The tree-man was nowhere to be seen.

Eileen looked up as her husband and son once again re-entered the house. She noted the small blue car in her son's hand, and waited with bated breath for her husband's reaction.

"Eileen," Tobias whispered, "I think this magic might be not all so bad after all."

The witch smirked slightly, but mostly just hoped that her husband's attitude would continue for longer than the week.


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

EDIT: Age increased because it was brought to my attention that four years old is a bit ridiculous. I may add a preceding chapter.

 **Chapter 2:**

 _November 5, 1967_

It was fall, and the wind was carrying freshly fallen leaves in its wake. Normally this would make for a picturesque scene, but against the grey of Spinner's End even the autumn hues looked dull.

Seven years had passed since Severus was born to Eileen and Tobias Snape; seven beautiful, yet terrible, years. Those first nine months had been blissful to the whole family, but Severus' first displays of willful magic had blunted the building positive emotions of his father. With the blunting of his fatherly pride, Tobias became surly and withdrawn in the home, ignoring his son and wife entirely unless it was to berate them. Along with Tobias' distancing himself from his son, Eileen had, too, become more distant. Severus' mother's retrusion form his life had less to do with shame or distaste, however, and far more to do with her wariness of her husband.

Still, Severus reflected as he walked towards the nearby playground, distance from one's parents did have small benefits. He was free to go where he pleased whenever he pleased. Such a fact would have horrified a happy family, as Severus was only seven years old, but the Snapes had not been that for many a night now. Sighing, he blew a stray stand of long black hair from his eyes and looked at the afternoon sky.

He had grown well, though he did not have the cute innocence of which children his age were usually known for. His eyes were dark and slightly guarded from experience with his not-always-pleasant family. He was tall for his age, and his neglected black hair had grown long to match. The longest strands fell over his disproportionately large nose, which looked as though it had not decided whether to be upturned or hooked. His arms and legs were awkwardly long even at this young age, though the chubbiness of youth saved him from appearing spindly.

At the age of seven, Severus continued to soar over his age-matched expectations. His toy, long held precious as the only gift given of love from his father, was a constant companion and he was nary seen without it. What form it took, however, was a different matter. His abilities with transfiguration had grown exponentially, and he was now capable of not only changing it to whatever he wanted of a similar size, but also of animating it with a thought. His mother had been horrified when she had walked in on him playing with a large spider, and had gone for a newspaper only to find it missing when she had returned. She quickly deduced that the spider had been his toy, and gave him a long lecture on propriety and other concepts that were too abstract to hold any meaning to a seven-year old, even one so intellectually capable as Severus was.

That was not to say that the meaning of the word was lost to Severus. No, his vocabulary was truly extraordinary. This was an ability that his father had no qualms in encouraging, and since then Severus' routine punishment had been copying definitions from the dictionary. He hated it, as his writing was messy and the act of copying the text was arduous at best, but it was better than alternatives he had heard of. And although his writing was slow and messy, he was improving to near legibility while writing quickly (although it was beginning to look cramped and spidery).

The other day, while copying words from 'penultimate' to 'petechiae' for a minor misdemeanor, Severus had realized another ability he could use. Usually, he stared at the page and copied, but by reading and knowing the whole definition of a word, he was able to retain it and copy the words from his mind. It might not be perfect, but nobody would realize, and he would have a better grasp on the words he was copying.

Brooding on his thoughts of punishment, Severus hardly noticed as he walked past another seven-year old child with her mother and sister. The girl with bright red hair stared curiously at the boy walking to the playground without a mother or father or even sister, wondering if she would be allowed to do the same.

Severus kept walking, still lost in his thoughts. Never did the fact that a seven-year old should not have to think these things register to him, as he had no experiences to the contrary. He blinked as his feet sunk into an uneven, granular surface. Sand. He had arrived at the playground.

The young boy looked at the rickety see-saw, the rusting roundabout and the abandoned swings only briefly before his dark eyes focused on his goal: the slide. Severus loved the feel of the wind in his hair more than most other feelings. While one might argue it would be simpler to get that feeling from the swings, Severus was both too young and small to use the swings effectively and liked the speed that he could get on the slide more than the momentary free-fall of the swings. As he made his way over to the contraption, he idly noticed the lack of other children in the area. _'All the better,'_ he thought. Severus had never had any inclination to play with his seemingly careless age-mates. Finally, he reached the slide. An expression of joy on his face, he ran up the stairs of the slide before throwing himself down headfirst onto the smooth metal surface.

The burn of metallic friction on his stomach notwithstanding, Severus was able to get quite some speed going down. He did not notice the wind unifying in direction around him, adding to his velocity; he was too distracted by the exhilarating feeling of pure speed. On a whim, instead of braking with his forearms as he usually did to prevent himself from being thrown from the slide, he willed himself into the air at the end of the slope. A sense of wonder enveloped him, dark eyes sparkling and mouth curving upwards as he rose not just slightly but significantly into the air, soaring for a good 10 feet before dropping back to ground. Maneuvering in the air, he managed to get his feet under him before landing roughly in the sand. The lack of the heavy impact he was expecting, the boy mused, must have been the impetus for placing sand instead of asphalt in the first place.

It was darker than he usually allowed when he finally headed back to Spinner's End. A feeling of apprehension engulfed his young mind as he neared the front door, knowing that his parents would not be pleased with him for staying out so late. He tried the door and found it to be unlocked, and then subsequently slid in and closed the door behind him. Locking the door, he called out to his parents.

"Mum? Da'?" His cries echoed in the empty house. He heard no response and shrugged, kicking his shoes off before running up the rickety stairs to his room. Closing his door behind him, he looked at the clutter filling his room before sighing. A curious child, Severus had begun reading and tinkering at an early age. His small bookshelf was filled haphazardly with childrens' novels and elementary spellbooks, as well as some of his mother's books he had nicked without her noticing. _'Not like she uses them anymore,'_ he mused, fingering the spine of a leather-bound tome before looking at the rest of his room.

He did not have many toys, the majority of his playthings formed from nature. Indeed, he had an army of men made from shaped tree-bark standing against trolls twisted from rock. Sometimes, Severus would have the men and the trolls oppose each other, crashing and banging as he imagined warriors we wont to do on a battlefield. He would lose himself in his imagination, the wooden figures taking on the form of ancient wizards and knights of ages past, and the rock trolls ambling with suppressed fury that only such creatures could muster.

The remaining contents of the room were scraps of paper with his notes and drawings scattered and forgotten through the room. His bed, a small, low frame with a thin mattress resting atop it, was situated perpendicular to the sole window, through which the last vestiges of daylight shone. It was dim, but still enough to read by, Severus thought.

Severus threw himself onto his bed and mentally called one of the tick tomes on the shelf over to him. This particular volume was a book on magical theory, a subject that interested Severus greatly. ' _Why'_ , he reasoned, _'would I focus on learning discrete spells instead of the theory behind them? I have already been able to use my magic with my intentions, why would I not try to work on that?'_

He flipped the book to his marked page, where he had left off. The book was discussing the origin of magic in the body, a subject that seemed not to be clearly understandable (at least from the author's words). The book was, admittedly, sometimes difficult for the seven-year old to understand, but he put his all into it and pondered the parts that were unclear endlessly. Frowning, he realized that he had now come to one such part, as he did not understand why magic had to originate fro a focus within the body. He knew, for instance, that he could manipulate the world around him with gestures as well as with thoughts. That would leave the brain as the director of magical ability, but he _felt_ that there was more to it than that. When he was emotional, the world around him would react in ways that he did not expect nor direct, so how could that come from his brain? Yet there was no writing on magic external to his body, most of the writing was on the brain and the usage of hands and wands as foci.

He sighed and kept reading. The text went on to discuss whether the brain as a source of magic would account for accidental magic. Severus suspected not—he knew that certain responses of the body happened independently of the brain, and was sure that there must be magical reflexes as well. He sometimes did things without meaning it when he felt threatened – he had blown up a bee a few days ago for fear of its sting – even when he would actively oppose the actions of his magic should he have had conscious influence over it. He did, after all, love flying insects quite a lot. There must be divisions to magic, and the strength of the magic probably varied with its source.

Severus was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of the front door slamming open, scrambling to replace the book on his shelf and smoothen out his shirt. After slowly opening the door to his room, he peeked out at his parents coming through the front door. His father ambled lightheartedly, looking as though he had imbibed at least a little on the night. His mother followed demurely after, hair carefully tucked behind her ears. Both were dressed for an outing, not looking as though they had disturbed their afternoon of relaxation to search out a wayward son. With a start, Severus remembered the reason he had ventured out of his house in the first place; his parent must be returning from the party at the mill.

His father and his father's union had just last week won a shorter workweek as well as a slightly raised pay from their superiors at the mill, which was reason enough to celebrate with alcohol. Eileen had been brought along, along with likely many other wives of the mill-workers. Severus assumed that his parents had enjoyed the night, given the small smile on his mother's face and the swagger to his father's step. A small smile formed itself on his face watching them, and he passed through his bedroom door.

As he walked into view of the foyer, his father's eyes drifted up to meet his. The adult beckoned his son to come to him, and so Severus ran down the stairs. Severus' spirit soared – in light of the recent fights in their home, such a lighthearted feeling was rare. He embraced his father, who whispered in his ear.

"Everything's gonna get better now, son. We're finally gonna have some money."

Somehow, the words did not comfort Severus as they were meant to do. Looking over to his mother, Severus realized that his mother shared the same sentiment, looking rather more apprehensive than cheerful. _'Still,'_ the boy thought as he took the leftover food spirited by his parents form the party for his dinner, _'I could be wrong.'_

And indeed the next day, the light-heartedness of the last night had passed. Severus thought glumly that he had not been wrong after all. After an uneventful day spend harassing frogs at the pond, Severus returned home to a dinner of canned beans and boiled potatoes served to him by his still-apprehensive mother. He had not seen his father since returning home, but the tension in the air told him that something had happened. Something he did not care to think about.

After washing his hands, Severus heard his father's heavy footsteps entering the dining area. His father looked a bit unkempt, and flushed in the face. He was clearly unhappy about something, thought the son.

The three Snapes sat to their meager meal, thoroughly enjoying the little food they had. A stab of pity went through the lone witch's heart, realizing that her son had never been able to eat a full meal produced at home. She remembered the relative opulence of her upbringing: while the Prince family was not Malfoy-level rich by any means, they were certainly not badly off, especially compared to the squalor she lived in now. Even looking at her son, Eileen sometimes struggled to remember why she had made the choices that she did.

Severus noticed the look in his mother's eyes as reminiscence, and squirmed uncomfortably. Whenever his mother thought of the magical world she inevitable worked it into conversation, which would always draw the ire of his father, which would have them screaming at one another and him running for cover before long.

"So," began Eileen, "what do you think of the food, Severus?"

Tobias noticeably stiffened, apparently having an inkling of the direction of the conversation. Noticing his father's posture, Severus began to panic. _'How am I supposed to answer, and what is really being asked?'_

"Ehm, it's fine as usual," Severus muttered. He was getting a bit tired of the simple dishes, but with very little aside from the infrequent leftover food brought home for him (as last night), he did not have very much to compare it to.

Tobias seemed to accept his answer, loosening and going back to his meal. But Eileen was not finished.

"How about compared with last night?" she pressed, a strange look crossing her face. Severus figured it must have been longing.

"Last night was nice," Severus started carefully, looking over to his father. "But I know that it was a special occasion which will not happen all the time."

Tobias' mouth curved upwards at the referral to the 'special occasion' he had helped to achieve. "Leave the boy, Eileen, he clearly knows what to expect and when."

Suddenly Eileen's face twisted into a snarl. "He wouldn't have to know _what_ to _expect_ if we could have some proper food, now would he?"

Tobias appeared to have been taken aback, but his face quickly clouded in rage. "Now listen here, we aren't some _old money_ family who can expect to have things come easily."

"But you have a brain, Tobias. Why don't you _use it_ to get us some funds?"

"You don't think I've tried, woman? You think I _want_ to work at the bloody mill for bloody no pay? I thought I would have been elevated _ages_ ago, but the management is stale and will not move. Would it be better I went jobless trying to find better money?"

"You could let me get you some additional _influence_."

Tobias started at that. Eileen was not pretty by any means of the imagination, so he knew exactly what kind of help she was offering. The very mention of magic sent his heckles up. "YOU CAN BLOODY MAKE WHAT MONEY YOU NEED WITH THOSE STUPID TRICKS OF YOURS," he bellowed, "BUT I CAN DAMN WELL PROVIDE WITHOUT NEEDING BLODY _MAGIC_." The last word rolled off of his tongue with absolute distaste.

"AND WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS STUPID AVERSION TO MAGIC, YOU BLOODY MUGGLE?" Eileen was right there with him in the screaming match, having lost her normally calm and demure persona to the memories of past comfort. "YOUR OWN SON IS A WIZARD, HOW'S THAT FOR MAGIC?"

"I NEVER WANTED MY SON TO BE A BLOODY _WIZARD_!" This time the word wizard was spat as though it was something to be reviled. The words were thrown without a shred of thought, but the man froze as he realized what he had said. He turned his head to look at his only child, who stared back with wide, frightened eyes. "Severus…"

"NO!" the child shouted. "I don't want you to keep fighting this way!" He covered his ears and stood jerkily from the table, backing out of the dining area.

Tobias exchanged a relatively calmer look with Eileen, who was looking shocked and ashamed. A truce was forged silently, and Tobias went to follow after his son.

Severus had shut his door, and was now lying on his bed facing the wall. How could his father have said that? How could he not love the magic that his son wrought?

A gentle knock at the door disrupted his thoughts. He could hear the breathing at the door, and knew who it was. He shut his eyes tightly, pretending to sleep as he heard the door open and his father walk to his side.

"I know you aren't sleeping, Severus."

Severus sighed and turned around, looking his father in the eyes. Emotions rushed through him, and somehow he could feel the regret coming off of his father as he met the man's eyes. But underneath he regret was a lasting mistrust, of the magic and of the fact that his son would leave his world.

Breaking eye contact, Severus answered his father. "I'm sorry for speaking out of turn, sir." His voice was glum.

Tobias cracked a small smile. "I don't well care abou' that right now, son. I didn't mean I didn't want you as a son, I just have trouble with all this… _magic_ , you know?" His usually crisp accent broke when he was emotional, and his old country-folk speak began to bleed through.

Severus knew.

"Anyway," his father was rambling now, "it hurts me that yer interests and future and all tha' will be out of my grasp, and I am confused."

Severus nodded silently, feeling as though something was caught in his throat.

"And I know that I don' make all the money I could, an' we're hungry, an' it's not good. But I'm not stupid, I can help you a little."

Severus was curious now. What would his father help him with?

"I know yeh'll go to that school when ye turn 11, but until then we'll keep you in normal school. And I think I'll wanna teach you some not-magic skills. From tomorra', we'll spend time after school readin' classics, or doin' maths, or studyin' sciences for a bit each night. How's that sound?"

The young boy thought it sounded excellent. While the man often frightened him, he loved his father and wanted to spend more time with the man. He gave his father a small smile, which seemed to satisfy him.

"Good night, Severus," he murmured, making his way out of his son's room.

Severus looked forward to the next few years, especially o school, but he knew that this one incident didn't mean that the fights were over. Not by any means.


End file.
